


Estrangement, Reconciliation

by Nikashuk



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Complicated Relationships, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Estrangement, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jack and Tommy have such an underrated friendship and I miss them, Making Up, Obligatory Tommy finally gets out of prison fic and angst ensues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciliation, Resentment, Resurrection, Reunions, Temporary Character Death, too I suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:42:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikashuk/pseuds/Nikashuk
Summary: After walking for a bit, he’s stopped in his tracks by the sight in front of him. Tommy is stood there, staring at the statues littering the lawns around his home.“…Tommy?” he asks, disbelievingly, slowly inching closer. That can’t be him, right? Because Tommy died. Brutally beaten to death by none other than the man who he had been fighting against from the beginning//Or, Jack Manifold spots a familiar figure admiring the statues that have been built in Tommy's memory.
Relationships: Jack Manifold & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jack Manifold & TommyInnit, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 41
Kudos: 727





	Estrangement, Reconciliation

**Author's Note:**

> Jack Manifold got me feeling some type of way. He portrayed his character's internal struggle so well, props to him. I want them to talk. Please let them reconcile I'm begging you please I miss their friendship.
> 
> Tommy's stream broke me too. He acted out his panic incredibly. I'm at a loss for words. The way he described the afterlife and the experience of dying and being revived, wow. Spectacular.
> 
> I always try to stick as close to canon as I can with works like these, because I want them to still be compliant, if that makes sense. I kind of went 'fuck that' with this one because I Have Thought and you have to hear them. I always feel like I have to explain everything, but it'd be quite limiting for myself as a writer if I kept doing that. I'd never get anything out, or done for that matter. I think this'll help me step out of my comfort zone a little.
> 
> Started writing this and then Jack did a stream where he goes in-depth about his character and his motivations. I've picked up on most of it because I've seen his POV plenty, but it was nice to have them reaffirmed. If you care about Jack's character I'd recommend watching the VOD!
> 
> Anyways, if you miss the Jack & Tommy duo, here you go! As always I write angst with a bit of comfort in it. I was planning on just having them in this one, but I couldn't leave Tubbo and Ranboo out, so they're here too!
> 
> I'd be embarrassed to admit I check my inbox every few hours whenever I remember, because I like to reply to them, but I'm not embarrassed because I love to hear people's thoughts. So, please leave a comment if you enjoy! I cherish them more than anything.

Jack manifold had endured a lot in his lifetime. He’d boast about it if you asked him, but he would never tell you how hurt he really was. He had burned down Za Haus in the spur of the moment, a grieving fit of rage. Stricken with too many confusing emotions, he had lashed out and destroyed it, taking most of his last remaining items with it. He had set out to go mining for materials a bit further away. This is what had led him down the prime path.

After walking for a bit, he’s stopped in his tracks by the sight in front of him. Tommy is stood there, staring at the statues littering the lawns around his home.

“…Tommy?” he asks, disbelievingly, slowly inching closer. That can’t be him, right? Because Tommy died. Brutally beaten to death by none other than the man who he had been fighting against from the beginning.

He looks like shit. That’s putting it both kindly and nicely. There is dried blood all over his face, one of his eyes swollen and bruised, his cheeks are not much better. The whole fit makes him look like a reanimated corpse. He inwardly cringes at the thought that might be a very probable possibility. Perhaps this was his ghost? Like Ghostbur, though he had heard more about him than he had actually seen him. After looking again though, he doubts his theory more by the second. Tommy looks far to real and solid to be a ghost.

“Hi Jack.” Tommy doesn’t wear an expression on his face. There’s no angry look, no scowl, no grin or open-mouthed smile. It honestly scares him a little. “You’re…” he starts, but can’t get the words to leave his mouth, they lodge into his throat instead. “Not dead?” Tommy asks for him. “Nope. Not anymore, at least.”

“How?” he asks, it comes out soft, surprising both him and Tommy. “You were there in the vault weren’t you? When Dream first got locked up?” He nods. “Then you know about the revive book. There’s your answer.”

Jack thinks he might throw up. He remembers crawling out of the debts of hell, or what he thinks was hell. He remembers how confusing it had been, the vast nothingness stretched out before him. He doesn’t know if Tommy went through the same thing, but the mere thought of it is enough to send his stomach lurching. He wouldn’t even wish that confusing experience on Tommy.

The silence stretches on for what feels like eternity, neither boys breaking eye contact but neither of them speaking either. “I’m just… going to move along.” Tommy says after a while, walking towards Jack in order to move past him. He stumbles, nearly toppling over. Jack shoots forwards, both to his and Tommy’s surprise, and catches him just in time.

He struggles to support Tommy’s weight, whose knees have buckled and locked up. “You should go sit down.” Jack says, beginning to lead him down the path to his house.

“Not there, I can’t-“ Tommy swallows thickly. “I can’t go home.” he murmurs, voice so broken the shattered shards of it could cut through steel. “Alright. Where do you want to go?” Jack asks gently. A part of him hates how he’s acting so nicely to the person who has taken everything from him. The other part can’t be bothered about that, merely focusing on his friend who is hurt and in pain.

Tommy doesn’t answer the question, his eyes fluttering shut and struggling to stay open as he winces in pain. “I’ve still got my place at Snowchester, we can go there.” Jack offers, receiving a hesitant and slow nod from the younger but taller boy he’s supporting.

He hauls Tommy’s arm over his shoulders, firmly grasping one arm and using the other to hook around his waist. Tommy straightens up slightly, but has to lean on Jack to keep himself from falling. It’s heavy, but having to carry him would be worse, so he’ll take his blessings and move on.

The walk there is silent, neither boys speaking a word. Jack is still supporting Tommy, sometimes readjusting his grip but never fully letting go. He really shouldn’t be walking in the shape that he’s in. If he hadn’t been so insistent on not going home he wouldn’t have dragged him all the way out here in the first place. He felt like he shouldn’t ask about why he’d been so adamant about staying clear of his house, but he can’t help but wonder. The likeliness and chance of him getting an answer were low though, and it wasn’t like he had a good track record on his luck.

They get to Snowchester after a considerable amount of walking. Upon stepping foot inside the borders, Jack leads them the last bit of the way to his house. When they arrive, he settles Tommy down on his bed and sits down on the jukebox himself, a bit of a distance away, but no more than a few feet. It’s silent, neither of the two making the first move to speak, just awkwardly stealing glances before looking away again.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Jack breaks the tender silence, all the while wringing his hands a bit more roughly than what could be considered comfortable. Tommy shakes his head, still staring at the floor. “I’m trying not to think about it.” Jack just nods in response, more for himself he supposes, as Tommy most likely couldn’t even see it.

He can see him trying to suppress his shivers, so without a warning, he gets up and grabs a blanket from a nearby chest. When Tommy doesn’t move to grab it after he’s held it out for him for multiple seconds, Jack lets it fall onto his lap. “Not like your clothes are well suited to the climate, big man.” Tommy doesn’t respond, just runs his hands across the soft fabric of the material before he grimaces. Jack quirks an eyebrow at the display. “What, not soft enough for you?” he attempt to joke.

“It all-… everything feels… new. Like I’m learning to experience it all for the first time again.” Tommy rambles. “Do you mean like, senses?” Jack questions. Tommy nods. “Yeah. It’s hard to explain. The cold on the way here felt- wrong. So do many other things. Touch, sound, smell, all of that shit. It’s overwhelming.” he says.

“That sounds uncomfortable.” Jack states. He can’t imagine what that would be like. “Yeah.” Tommy responds. “I guess that would also rule out any foods or substances, I was about to ask if you were thirsty or hungry or something.” Jack philosophizes. “I doubt I’d be able to stomach it either way. Raw potatoes don’t make for a great diet.” Tommy mumbles. Raw potatoes? Was that the only food they had in the prison? Those things are disgusting, they taste like nothing. None of these thoughts are spoken out loud.

Neither of them know what else to say, so they stay quiet. Jack’s thoughts are racing, everything a jumbled mess and none of it making any sense. Some of the feelings he can recognize, such as guilt and relief, but also anger and resentment. All of it moves too quickly for anything concrete to settle.

“You know, I never told many people but… I- died, too. Thrice. You can blame Technoblade for the last time. Well, I nearly died, more like. I was near death, but I held on by a thread.” Here he goes making it all about himself again. He regrets saying it immediately. Why was he telling him this? God, this is all so frustrating.

“What?” Tommy looks at him quizzically. “Yeah. Crawled out of hell purely out of spite. It… wasn’t pleasant.” he elaborates. Tommy’s eyes glaze over for a minute before he speaks words that make Jack do a double take. “I’m sorry Jack.” is what comes out of his mouth. “What?” he breathes. Had he heard that right?

“I’m sorry that happened to you. It must’ve been fucking awful.” No, yeah, he had definitely heard that right. He can’t stop himself from saying what comes out next. “I blamed you.” He blurts out, voicing the thoughts he’d kept bottled up inside for all this time.

“I get it. Wilbur would not shut up about how he and I were never any good for this place. I wasn’t a good friend.” Tommy says dejectedly. “You spoke to Wilbur?” Jack quizzes. “Yeah. I don’t- sorry, I don’t think I want to discuss that right now.” Tommy mumbles. “That’s okay, Tommy. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Jack tries to be reassuring, but he’s not sure if it works.

“I- Dream said I was only dead for two days. I tend not to trust his word too often, hence, you know- the murder- but, is it true?” Tommy inquires. Jack cringes at the mention of the murder, still too fresh not to hurt. “Yeah, I think so. I’m not sure.” he confirms. Truly, he didn’t. If the duration of his death had only been two days, then that meant he hadn’t immediately gotten out. It has definitely been more than two days since he heard the news. “Jesus Christ…” Tommy rakes a hand through his hair. Jack is just now noticing there are a few notable streaks of white in them. He chooses not to mention it.

“I thought death would offer salvation or something. I can’t remember the amount of times I almost offed myself because I thought it would end the pain. Guess I’m glad I didn’t do it. It wouldn’t have mattered.” Tommy laments, rambling on.

Jacks heart sinks to his stomach, bile threatening to rise and spill from his mouth. “You what?” he agonizes. “I said the part about almost offing myself out loud, didn’t I.” Tommy states more than asks. “Yeah, you did.” Jack verifies. “Well, it shouldn’t matter, should it? I mean, you tried to kill me, didn’t you?” The tone doesn’t even sound accusatory, just sad and defeated. Guilt creeps up on him regardless. “Yeah, I did.” comes the admittance, not seeing a point in denying it anymore. He doesn’t mention Nikki.

“So Nikki did too then, huh? I guess I was trying to ignore that part more than you. I must’ve really fucked up if kind-hearted Nikki would want me dead.” His silence speaks in volumes, essentially answering the question despite not having spoken. Jack can’t speak for Nikki, because one, he doesn’t know her reasoning, and two, it’s not his place. Their motives were different, though. For Nikki, Tommy is a scapegoat, at least that’s what he thinks. For him, everything was a bit more personal.

“I thought I’d be happy.” He says after a notable silence. Tommy looks up. “Weren’t you?” He laughs bitterly, the sound sounding wrong even in his ears. “No.” Tommy frowns at his response. “No, I felt awful. Took me all but ten minutes to spiral into a breakdown.“ he continues, drawing in a shaky breath. Tommy’s frown somehow deepens.

“I thought we were friends, and I felt betrayed. I thought you were selfish and reckless and I blamed everything on you. When I visited you during your exile, I’d consigned myself to forgiving you, but you killed me. That kind of screwed it all up.”

Tommy cringes, guilt visible on his face and in the way he shifts nervously and uncomfortably on the bed, hands grabbing handfuls of the blanket in his lap. “That was kind of fucked of me, huh.” he states. “A bit.” Jack admits. “I was a pretty shitty friend, wasn’t I?” _Yes, you were._ “I wasn’t all that good either, to be fair.” _Neither was I._

The truth hurts. He had to find that out the hard way. Tommy’s death had opened his eyes to all the truths he’d made an active effort to ignore. Maybe his death had done the same for him. The truth is hard to face, that much is true, but both of them are facing it right now.

“I- I’m really not trying to lay the blame outside myself but, exile was- it wasn’t so good. It fucked with my head a lot, I wasn’t- I wasn’t really in the right state of mind there. You kind of spooked me, at first, and then I- don’t know what went through my head at that point. I’m sorry” Tommy says, stammering and eyes darting across the room to avoid looking at Jack directly.

The more Tommy speaks, the less Jack can compare him to the image of him he’d built in his mind. The Tommy he knew didn’t apologize, or voice his thoughts and concerns, nor did he present himself this vulnerably. It didn’t help with the turmoil he was already facing.

“I never knew your exile was that bad. I didn’t know what happened. Still don’t really, just context clues and deductive reasoning. I was mad you killed me. I didn’t know how much you were struggling.” Jack figures that if Tommyinnit can be honest and openminded, then so can he. Tommy wears a forlorn expression on his face, the blanket he had given him still in his hands which he grips like it was a lifeline. Jack frowns at the sight.

With a deep sigh, he speaks again. “During that final fight with Dream, before he was locked up, I was relishing in the fact that maybe we were friends again. Deep down that’s really all I wanted. Then you looked around the room you stopped at me and said ‘No one ever did anything to you Jack.’, and that kind of pissed me off. Wasn’t very helpful.” Jack continues. It feels as right as it does wrong, complaining about the wrongdoings of a guy who has just recently came back from the dead. Right or wrong, it feels more cathartic than he ever thought the death would feel like.

The look Tommy gives him holds so much sadness he thinks he might burst open. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I’m pretty oblivious it turns out. Kind of selfish, too.” Tommy laments, a sad mix between his usual open-mouthed smile and a frown adorning his lips.

As long as Jack’s spilling all his secrets, he might as well admit to all of them, he concedes. “I spent so long being angry. It was one of the only things I could hold onto. It was all I had, and I’d lost so much. I clung to it like a lifeline, because if I held onto that anger, then I wouldn’t have to face any of the hurt I was feeling.” Tommy stares at him with a forlorn look on his face, bordering uncomfortableness. Still, he sits there and lets him ramble and rant to his hearts content.

Jack continues on, undeterred. “It’s kind of sad. I kind of always of enjoyed those moments I’d go and spy on you, get close to you. When you invited me to work with you at the hotel, I knew you were scamming me. But, I guess it was nice even if I was pretending just to- to act like we were friends.” he admits, more to himself than to Tommy, who continues to stare at him blankly.

“I felt a lot more than I thought I would, when I heard of your-… passing. I expected to be happy, and a little part of me was, but I didn’t expect to be so… you know. It was confrontational, really weird and confusing.” Jack sighs deeply, a hand coming up to take off his two-colored glasses so he can pinch the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t see the way Tommy tenses up at the act.

“When I heard you were in prison, I thought ‘well that’s convenient, maybe now I don’t even have to kill him’, ignoring the voice that whispered that maybe that was never what I wanted. Then after the- news, I was angry, at first. Another thing was taken from me by you and Dream, but then the realization set in and I was forced to face the truth.” Tommy tilts his head slightly at that, almost like a puppy who didn’t understand what was being said.

“And what was that?” he asked, feeling like he should do something to pitch into the conversation, and that thus was the window of opportunity to do so. “That I missed you.” Jack admits, hating himself for how his voice broke halfway through and how he started tearing up the second he spoke the words. “That it wasn’t what I wanted.” he adds on. It was like talking about it brought back all the feelings he had initially felt. Tommy looks, for a lack of a better comparison, almost bordering guilty.

This Tommy was the exact opposite of everything he expected. He never thought he’d see him again, but if somehow, they ever spoke again and he admitted how he missed him, he would have expected for him to have laughed. To have called him clingy and then boasted about how he understands because he’s so cool and everyone loves him.

The Tommy before him, however, does none of that. Instead, he almost looks like he’s about to apologize again, if he hadn’t averted his gaze and attention back to the blanket laying uselessly in his lap. “I don’t know why I always act the way I do, so angry and impulsive all the time. I’m not that great of a person. Everyone likes to remind me, but I guess I was ignoring it. Didn’t want to face reality.” he mumbles, still not looking up.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re just acting your age, albeit a bit worse than most.” Jack tries to make the joke sound lighthearted, but at the end of the day all jokes are rooted in truth, so neither of them feel very uplifted by it.

Silence reigns supreme again for a while. With so much said on Jack’s part and so much left unsaid on Tommy’s part, there was really no other direction for the conversation to go in. So they’re silent, and Jack lets his mind drift a little, thinking about everything he’s said and reflecting on it. One particular thing about Tubbo makes him straighten up, suddenly attentive again. Tommy shifts and quirks an eyebrow at him.

“I should call Tubbo.” Jack says, moving to grab his communicator, but is stopped by the figure of who could only be Tommy, since there are only two people in his house, moving suddenly from the corner of his eye. “Will you-“ he stops for a moment before continuing. “Will you stay?“ he asks, voice so small it surprises even himself. He would have hated how he sounds and how he’s acting once, too, but right now he can’t bring himself to care. The tiredness and fatigue is slowly catching up to him, so he’s too tired to care.

God, he looks so young, so vulnerable. Jack was barely an adult himself, if one could count an 18 year old an adult. Tommy was only 16, still just a kid. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. “Yeah, I’ll stay.” he promises. Tommy relaxes a little and his shoulders slump from the pressure and metaphorical weight being lifted off of them.

Jack turns back to his communicator and types in a message.

_You whisper to Tubbo_: Tubbo where are you?_

_Tubbo_ whispers to you:_ _at bee &boo with ranboo_  
_Tubbo_ whispers to you: why?_

Jack looks back to Tommy, who was staring intently at the wall. “Would you mind if Ranboo came along?” he asks. Tommy shakes his head in response to the question.

_You whisper to Tubbo_: can you two come to Snowchester?_  
_You whisper to Tubbo_: it’s important_

_Tubbo_ whispers to you: sure_  
_Tubbo_ whispers to you: did something happen?_

_You whisper to Tubbo_: yeah_  
_You whisper to Tubbo_: just get over here_

_Tubbo_ whispers to you: we’re on our way_

“They’re on their way.“ he repeats the last message out loud. Tommy makes a noise of acknowledgement but overall stays quiet. Blessed silence in a room shared with Tommyinnit, who would’ve thought it possible. Once upon a time, that’s all he would’ve wishes for. Now though? He longs for the loud swears and obscene comments. Anything but this broken child in front of him who is confronting him with all the parts of himself he’s very recently and suddenly come to hate.

The door creaks open loudly. Tommy flinches, the reaction not going by unnoticed by Jack, before they both turn their heads just in time to see Tubbo entering, Ranboo following close behind. “Alright, we’re here. What was so impor-“ Tubbo cuts himself off the second he locks eyes with Tommy. Both of their eyes widen marginally, along with Ranboo’s, who stands still with apparent shock. “…Tommy?” Tubbo asks, voice so small and barely above a whisper. “Tubbo-“ Tommy starts, but doesn’t get a chance to finish before Tubbo sprints over tackles him in a hug, nearly sending both of them tumbling off of the bed and onto the floor.

The two boys claw at each other desperately with all of the strength they have left in their frail and tired limbs. “Tommy, Tommy- Tommy, Tommy, Tommy-“ Tubbo repeats the name like a mantra, like if he stops saying it he’ll forget it. They cling to each other, hands tangled in clothes and pulling until there is no longer any space left between them, the long since abandoned and barely used blanket sandwiched between them. Tommy stares at the wall, seeming to be processing everything, before his eyes tears up within seconds and spill over, the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Jack had always liked Tubbo, always nice and kind, to him, at least. Your own brain is a powerful weapon, but it is also your greatest weakness. Your greatest ally as well as your greatest enemy. Repeat something enough times and it will start to believe it. Jack, for example, had in an effort to justify his heinous acts, managed to convince himself Tommy’s death would benefit Tubbo, too. Surely he was not exempt from the manipulation Tommy handed out like free candy. Sure, he would be upset, because Tubbo didn’t see it that way, but ultimately it would be good for him.

Tubbo had initially not reacted much to Tommy’s death, or at least not as badly as he had expected. He had shrugged it off, because Tommy wasn’t dead, had denied the truth and called it a liar straight to its face. He had thought Tommy had died before, and then he saw him in the flesh, so why should this time be any different? Jack hadn’t seen him much after the first few interactions though, so maybe he was too quick to assume. Not everyone processes things the same, some do it more quickly than others, and all do it differently.

Now though, as he watches the two teens cry, sobbing and blubbering muttered apologies, he can barely believe his own thoughts. This was the undeniable truth that Tubbo would have been broken beyond repair if he had never gotten his best friend back. In retrospect, he was kind of glad the nuke plan had failed, no matter how frustrated he had been that it had at the time. When he had managed to miss a child with an entire nuclear warhead, he had started to wonder if by some cruel twist of fate, perhaps he wasn’t meant to kill Tommy, and not just that Tommy simply could not die. Every attempt he’d ever made had failed, even when he’d planned them so carefully. The thought had been expelled just as quickly as it had arisen. It was vitriol.

With his newfound guilt, he has enough clarity to understand Tubbo would have felt responsible. He had tricked and used him to aid him in killing his best friend in the most gruesome and painful manner. He had even felt happy when Tommy had coughed up blood after visiting the demolition site without a hazmat suit. What a horrifying thing. How had he been so blinded?

Ranboo lingers awkwardly at the doorway, seeming to not want to intrude on the moment shared between the two, though his own relief and sadness is clear on his face. The enderman hybrid has to make an active effort not to cry at the sight of the two boys hugging, because he had already cried enough in the days leading up to this one, his scars still hurting from his last crying session.

Tubbo pulls back, not missing the whine that came from Tommy at the sudden lack of touchm warmth and comfort. He looks at him with a pain ridden expression, tears still flowing. “Jesus, Tommy- you look awful-“ Tubbo breathes in a shuddering breath, fingertips ghosting over the injuries mainly littering his face. Tommy winces and Tubbo reels his hand back. “Sorry, but we have to treat these, they’re already old.” he says gently. Of course, his very obvious and untreated wounds, how had he not thought about that? ‘ _Must’ve been too busy fussing over your own feelings’_ some part of his brain whispers. For the sake of his already questionable sanity, he ignores it.

The remarked observation snaps Ranboo out of his stupor, who approaches quickly with a worried expression, Tommy smiling sadly at him, Ranboo returning it and sharing the sentiment. So that’s what they did. Tubbo cleans and treats to Tommy’s wounds, Ranboo pitching in without question or hesitation whenever Tubbo directs him. Jack, however, sits at the other end of the room, arms hugging himself as he looks at a boy younger than him treat an even younger boy’s injuries with a precision he should not posses at such an age, the kind only obtained through experience.

Tommy had all but shrieked when the wettened, disinfected cloth had first touched his face. Tubbo and Ranboo had both looked so alarmed, Tommy’s eyes shot open wide in panic, before Jack had hurriedly tried to explain what he had been told before, about Tommy’s sensitivity. He only explains the basics, he himself slightly panicking in the heat of the moment, because the rest wasn’t up to him to tell.

Tubbo resolved to be as careful as he could, which ultimately, didn’t help much, but the sentiment was nice. When the injuries had been tended to, Tubbo briefly steps away to clean up the mess that the whole ordeal had caused. Jack had helped, without anything better to do, subsequently and momentarily leaving Ranboo alone with Tommy.

“I uhm, I’m glad you’re not dead.” Ranboo smiles awkwardly, which Tommy matches with a sorrowful one himself. “Thanks.” he says softly. It’s one of the most genuine thank you he’s ever heard Tommy give. “You kept the flower I gave you.” Ranboo near whispers. Jack and Tubbo exchange a glance, but it doesn’t last very long. Tommy’s expression turns puzzling for a moment before he smiles, this one a bit more genuine, though there’s a hint of embarrassment underneath it. “Alliums are nice.” Ranboo can no longer hold back the tears at that. He paws at his face with his sleeves angrily, as if it would stop them from flowing.

“Tommy, what happened to you?” Tubbo speaks next, worry etched into his every feature, from the furrow of his brows to the way he frowns. “Well, I died, didn’t I.” It comes out harsher than Tommy had intended, judging by the grimaces on the others’ faces. “Sorry.” he mutters. “You don’t need to apologize.” Tubbo says, frowning still, but this time mixed with a soft grimace. “I don’t really know, for sure. Dream, he-“ The next words lodge into his throat. “He uh- when I-“ he lets out a frustrated growl. He can’t get himself to speak the words they all know are missing from his sentences. “I mean, I’m sure you heard somehow.“ he crosses his arms to seem indifferent and uncaring, but really just hugs his arms close to himself.

“I think… we’re more curious about how you’re here now.” Ranboo offers, trying to clear things up a little. Tommy takes in a shuddering breath, closing his eyes before answering. “The bastard’ memorized the damn book.” he says finally. They all gape at him at the same time they pale considerably. Tommy meanwhile looks fidgety but unimpressed. The room is silent for a while before Ranboo exhales a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “What?” he breathes, incredulous.

“I didn’t believe him, so he had to prove a point.” Tommy shrugs, like it’s normal and not the most traumatic experience a person could ever go through. “He said he didn’t even know for sure if he could. Went on about his god complex for a bit as well, fucking arsehole.” he grumbles. The small group that has formed blinks, at a loss for words. Thankfully, they don’t have to think about anything to say just yet, because Tommy continues.

“He wants to know how it works. Death, that is. Obtain information. Said we could study it and become immortal together.” He shudders at the memory. The thought of spending eternity with none other than his abuser was enough to nearly wish for death again, before remembering how awful it had been. Still, he deemed it preferable over the other option.

“He said my life is in his hands, that I owed him my life.” Tubbo’s expression turns sour, while Jack furrows his eyebrows and Ranboo frowns with his mouth agape. Tommy is not looking at any of them, the floor seeming a lot more interesting, so he continues, undeterred. “I begged him to burn it, but he said he didn’t have it, just the knowledge, then went on about how he can’t lose that. Wiseacre.” he nearly growls. None of them speak still.

“He said- he’d bring back Wilbur, and that he’d help him escape. Thinks he’s the smartest man on the planet because he’s been dead so long.” Tommy rasped. “Do you think Wilbur would do that?” Ranboo questions. Tommy tenses, eyes glazing over. “I don’t- I don’t want to-“ Tommy’s breathing turns shaky and speeds up rapidly. “Maybe don’t- mention Will, for now.” Jack interjects hurriedly, remembering Tommy’s reaction from before paired with the one he just gave. Tubbo and Ranboo look at him with questioning looks, but relent and don’t mention it any further.

“Okay, okay. Besides that, Tommy, how are you feeling? Can we do anything for you?” Tubbo asks, ever caring and kind. Tommy shakes his head, though it looks more like he’s trying to clear his head than he is saying no. “I don’t know, I just feel- wrong.” he mumbles dejectedly. Tubbo and Ranboo exchange a look, but Jack already has a rough idea what Tommy is talking about. Again, the benefit or luck of getting there first, he supposes.

“What do you mean?” Ranboo questions. Tommy has gone back to what is essentially petting the blanket, running his hands over the soft fabric. “Living. Death didn’t feel much better, but I- I’d gotten used to it after so long. Back there it was just- colorless. Everything felt real but nothing was there. It was just this, this all-encompassing black void that felt like it inhabited every single space within me, like it was wrapped around me, and it didn’t even feel like I there was a me to begin with. I imagine it would feel intrusive, but again, not much to feel.”

None of the other people present could say they understand. Not even Jack, who can’t even compare his own experience where he felt essentially nothing. “That doesn’t sound very pleasant.” Ranboo speaks first. “It wasn’t. Sorry I’m so vague, it’s just- hard to explain.” Tommy stammers, heaving a deep sigh. “It’s okay, Tommy. Thank you for telling us what you can.” Tubbo smiles reassuringly, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Jack feels like he’s intruding on a private moment just by being in his own house, watching the scene before him play out. When he shifts uncomfortably and stands, Tommy’s eyes shoot up and are on him in seconds. The look he gives him freezes him in place. Eyes looking almost pleading, as if to say ‘you promised’. “I’m not going anywhere.” he says. No matter how much he would like to, he won’t. Despite everything that has happened between them, he made a promise, and he doesn’t intend to break it. He’s not sure how long the promise is meant to last. No set time frame was given, but for now, he wouldn’t mind if it was indefinitely.

At this point it’s obvious there would be no more talking for the day, but also that none of them had the heart to go and leave Tommy. If they were all being honest with themselves, then they really shouldn’t leave him, even if they wanted to. Besides, how awful would that be? You don’t just abandon a person who has died and been brought back to life, certainly not when they’re in the shape Tommy is in. Tubbo had done his absolute best to take care of the wounds, but there was only so much he could do.

So Ranboo had helped Jack gather as many blankets and pillows as they could find, most of them coming from Tubbo’s house, and piled them all on the floor to create a big nest just big enough for the three of them, after they’d all insisted Tommy lie in a bed instead of on the floor, because he’d been denied the luxury far too long already. He’d relented and agreed after a few more stern words that all came from good intentions, but he hadn’t seemed too happy about it.

Tommy had been fighting the growing need for sleep every step of the way, no matter how many times his eyes had slipped shut and shot open again moments after when he caught himself. He had willed the fatigue away to the best of his abilities, but a person can only stay awake so long, not to mention it paired with all of the things he’s been through.

Both Tubbo and Jack, as well as Ranboo, had all but stared at Tommy before he finally succumbed to slumber. After that, they all lied down and stayed quiet, letting unanswered questions and worries fester for another day.

Whilst lying on the makeshift bed they’ve made, Jack reflects on the events of this very eventful day. They’ve been through a lot. All of them, not just him and Tommy. Seen too much of the horrors of the world and its cruelty, and they were completely undeserving of it.

One interaction would not be enough to mend their estranged relationship. It most definitely will never be the same. The hurt and betrayal would always stay there, lingering resentment underneath the surface. But sitting in a house, surrounded by acquaintances he could maybe even consider friends, he thinks that maybe there could be some reconciliation for them yet.


End file.
